She woke at 5am with an alarming sense of enthusiasm for the day. When usually she would be glazed-eyed and grumpy at waking in the early hours, she instead accepted the morning with pleasure.
A break in the curtains shielding the draft of a cool morning showed her that the day was already going to be cool and bright, with the perfect kind of morning for a ride in the forest.
Some minutes later her jodhpurs were on and with her boots hastily pulled from the rack, she crept out the front door and into the car. The drive was silent and peaceful, the wide roads barren with only the neighbours cat, Bowie, prowling the streets. He too, looked peaceful, his face composed and fragile, like he was both in deep thought and no thought at all.
Besides Bowie, her focus was on the huge black gates squeaking open at her arrival, being conscious of her early visit and the neighbours surrounding the farm. They were dark an ominous to those who didn’t know what was through them, but to her, it felt like coming home.
The grass was wet in the fields and the huge estate home with the lavender flowerbeds became the object of her desire as it was illuminated by the dew. Since childhood it had been the house of fairytales, it’s provincial beams and large windows were just the image of something from Proust or Flaubert. It was dreamy.
As the sky woke, she stumbled across the divots in the field to find her horse, a sweet charismatic gelding, who she has had since she was 13 years old. He brushed against her with affection as she led him in for hay and water. Upon their meeting the sky lit up in a bright pink, bouncing across every corner of her eyes and through the trees and over the barn and all around. She remained the only spectator and felt as though the world had performed this spectacle to treat only her. That moment was solitary and special, for the rest of her day was filled with so many obligations to so many people. She, at least, knew she had this moment where the sky made her feel infinite.